Ignite the Void
by calicokitty111
Summary: A new empire has risen; the Imperium of Man. All who oppose them shall be put down swiftly and painfully. The galaxy shall know the brutality of Humanity; But what about those who oppose them? This is my take on one of my most favorite Stellaris runs of all time.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The Osk-Jar-Kan defense fleet orbited around the planet's axis lazily, it's ion thrusters dormant for the time being. The collection of Corvettes and Destroyers, paired with a few Cruisers, we're spread around the planets area, the Corvettes screening the nearby imperial systems of Olympia and Kaiser meticulously for any signs of gravetic disturbances. Destroyers had their own weapons charged to maximum, lasers glowing and shields on overdrive.

It was safe to say everyone was a bit jumpy.

Fleetmaster Nal-Uruk stood at the helm of his flagship, the Dominator, a heavy battlecruiser with the latest technology available; advanced ultraviolet laser cannons, plasteel armor, heavy shielding, and a hanger bay carrying the newest addition to Screk fleets; fighter squadrons.

The Screk had typically traded off fighter squadrons for more armor and heavier weapons to hold their own in rigid battle lines, a nod of the hat to traditional Screk warfare. But ever since the skirmishes at Urzgahan over two years ago, where the much more flexible and quick Imperial Forces carried strike craft to deal surgical blows to their capital ships, many theorists began to change their minds, especially since any improvement upon their technology could mean the difference between freedom and enslavement by the dark empire itself.

He let out a heavy, grumbling sigh, his carapace flexing and his mandibles shaking. He was to old for this. Why didn't he retire when given the opportunity?

The bridge was a mess of activity, Screk and a multitude of other species scrambling to prepare for the inevitable. His communication s officers were chattering with the rest of the fleet, relaying orders and information to and from the screening corvettes at the edge of the system.

"Fleetmaster! I have a message for you! From Tal-Kul on Screkon!"

The Screk behind him, a youngin from one of the settlements of Dal-Mir-Tur, a jungle colony at the edge of their borders raced up to him. He has a sleek whitish-grey carapace with white spots on his bony forehead. He wore fleet armor, a light service uniform with a ceramo-metal chestplate with polymer straps, shin guards, pauldrons and wrist guards, all capable of protecting against light and medium laser weaponry.

He handed Nal-Uruk the data chip and hurried back to his station, his mandibles and antenna flickering. Nal-Uruk slipped the chip into his headset and braced for his worst fear.

"Fleetmaster Nal-Uruk, of you are hearing this then our worst fears have come into fruition. The Imperium of Man has officially declared war upon Screk Manufacturing. You can expect an invasion fleet in the next twelve hours, if not less."

Tal-Kul let out a shaky breath, raising static on his end. He seemed generally terrified of the possibilities at hand. "I have other duties to attend to, but be advised, if we somehow do not win this war, I have set up flights to Sairon in the west galactic nebula. Your family will be safe, and if you perish they will inherit your insurance and assets, although after this I doubt the latter will be worth much."

His voice hitched, and he could hear the old Grand Fleetmaster pouring himself a glass of alcohol. "Good luck, Fleetmaster, and may you live to fight another day.

The line ended in a terrifying silence.

And then he dragged himself back out into reality.

"All ships, prepare for combat, I want everyone combat ready _yesterday_. We have enemy fleets on route in the next few hours!"

A collection of 'yes Fleetmasters' echoed through the large room, and if the bridge was chaotic before now it was anarchy. Communications officers, gun controllers and petty officers rushed in and out and all around preparing for combat. Suddenly, the sensors went haywire, short circuiting due to lack of capable processors.

"Fleetmaster!", a young Screk called out from behind his console, "over three dozen energy readings originating from this system. Makeup unknown." He could hear the asi in whirring of the electronics next to him, servos tearing themselves apart. The readings had to be unimaginable.

On his own console, he saw the makeup of his fleet as glowing green reticles on his screen. He had several dozen ships, but most of them were screening corvettes and gunships, along with half a dozen Destroyers and the flagship and only capital ship, the _Dominator_. Several of his corvettes had disappeared from his screen, meaning they either had gone silent or were destroyed.

"Fleetmaster! Enemy Contact in twenty five kilometers!"

He kicked into action, his dual adrenal glands on overdrive. "Brace for impact!"

Out of nowhere, an enemy ship larger than even the _Dominator_ warped in seemingly from thin air, and slogged towards them. But instead of stopping and firing, it continued until it rammed into the destroyer next to them, the _Rancor_. It's shields sputtered and died as the massive capital ship cleaved it into to two. Micro explosions riddled it's surface until it was consumed by a massive fireball that was once it's cold fusion reactor.

"By the spirits…", whispered one of his Unyula officers, a species of avians from frozen planets in the east Galaxy. His feathers were ruffled and his single eye was wide with horror. Teal Feathers was his name.

Several dozen more ships warped in, all from seemingly nowhere. They weren't using hyperdrives, the de-facto technology used in FTL travel. But that's wasn't his only concern. The fleet was _massive_, with the five kilometer long monstrosity as the flagship. It was escorted by several Cruisers that he recognised as _Mars _class, and a gaggle of Destroyers. Enemy corvettes we're already skirmishing with his own at the edge of the system, marauder missiles fired off the studs on their hoods.

He looked to his left, dumbfounded as the enemy flagship charged up it's gauss cannons. In a barrage of spectacular blue light, over a dozen rounds slammed into the shields of the _Dominator_ with enough force to rock the ship sideways.

"Shields a twenty five percent. Activating secondary shield amplifiers!"

The shields we're suddenly jerked back to life, but as a shell of their former power. The laser batteries were fully charged, but he knew the damage would be cosmetic at most, nonexistent at least. But any effect was better than none.

"All gunners, prepare to fire spinal laser cannons starboard, and scramble nemesis fighters!" Another cavalcade of 'yessirs' and other acknowledgements rang through the bridge.

The royal purple cannons charged up and fired intense beams of supercharged particles at the enemie's shields, but they held like nothing had happened. Another secondary barrage fired off, and a third. Nothing.

Another barrage of gauss fire tore into the shields, and although they had been defiant, there was no way they could hold forever. They sputtered out in a dying orange light, their generators overheating from extreme strain. The few Gauss shells that had broken through slammed into the hull, cratering the armor like tinfoil.

He could hear the cries, pleas and desperate calls from his fleet along the intercoms. It had only been half an hour and they had received over fifty percent casualties. The enemy fleet had only lost half a dozen corvettes in it's over forty ship strong fleet, most due to the flagship.

As if he had summoned the demon by speaking it's name, the ship sided port with them again, guns aimed at the hull, but it didn't fire. Instead, dozens of pods, the size of small asteroids, launched from its side, like a barrage of rocks. They slammed into the hull where the main hall would be and several thumps turned into unnerving sawing noises. His worst fear had come true.

He turned back to his shaken crew and let out a shaky sigh. "Prepare to repel boarders!"

* * *

In the hanger bay of the _Dominator_, several squads of Screk, Unyala, and miscellaneous droids were hidden behind makeshift barricades of materials and crates, each holding their laser pistols close. They all had determined faces that hid their terrified demeanors; their legs shook, their eyes darted around the hanger, and they twitched uncontrollably. This moment could mean life or death for them.

They had to make the most of it.

On the other side of the metal doors across the bay was the entrance to the hall that the Humans had already boarded, he could hear their boots vibrating the ground, he could smell the stench of sweat and machine grease and ozone. Marine Captain Nur-Ken shuddered. That was the smell of plasma, and that could only mean shock Marines. They were some of the most elite armsmen in the Galaxy, equipped with the latest technology and prepared for any situation. Compared to his small company of Navy armsmen with light ceramo-metal composition armor and laser pistols, they were almost unbeatable.

He wasn't used to this type of combat. He had risen through the ranks fighting pirates and raiders, those who were poorly equipped and cowardly. His men were as green as they could get, and their makeshift barricades wouldn't help against the unforgiving fire of plasma.

His sensitive ear holes picked up the _thwap_ of magnetic clamps on the far door, the sound of breaching charges being placed. "It's time, suppressing fire on that door. Dar-Jaf, get the Admiral on the line. We've got a situation."

The young radio operator, just enlisted, nodded silently and began tapping on his dataslate. The whine of the charges grew louder until the door blew several meters outward into the hanger bay, and the room ignited with energy.

His squads opened fire into the smoke and the srap that was once the entrance, blue beams striking wall and brilliant yellow energy shields. The enemy Marines returned fire with blue high energy plasma. A bolt of energy tore into the shoulder of his lieutenant, splattering white blood on the wall behind him. He collapsed and screamed in agony as his carapace burned and his flesh roasted.

He popped from cover, returning fire, but it was no use. They were entrenched behind the dismantled fighters on the opposite side, firing surgical shots into the crowd of armsmen, picking them off one and one.

"Dar-Jaf, where's the connection? We cannot hold for much longer!"

"The connection is blocked on all frequencies, Captain. We are isolated here!"

Another armsmen collapsed, plasma burning through is skull. "We need to back into the hall. We can't hold here!

Just then, a phosphorus grenade exploded next to his position, charing his carapace and armor. He quickly made his decision.

"Move, damnit, move! We don't have time to wait here. Get to the pod hall. Dar-Jaf, frequencies!?"

"The frequencies are back up Captain, but shoddy at best. I can barely understand the Admiral!"

He cursed under his breath and looked back. Several human marines we're firing at them as they rushed down the hall, in hot pursuit. The ships supports began to groan uncontrollably and several snapped from pressure, dropping another floor between them and the enemy and venting atmosphere above them. More micro explosions tore across the hall, sending shrapnel into his men, killing even more. "Come on, we're almost there, just tow more corridors!"

And they entered the pod bay, a few large Gunships designed to ferry crew in between ships and orbital elevators as well as a dozen pods. There were only ten of them left, and at least half of his men were capable of operating the Valkyrie Gunships.

"Get in damnit, the ship is collapsing on itself. Get moving."

As they boarded, another plasma bolt hit his arm, searing into his pauldron, rendering it useless. He fired back, blue laser beams disabling the target's shield and sparking on it's heavy armor like fireworks. The human took cover as more pooled in.

"Captain! Get in, were ready to leave!" The ship had already began to take off, and he grasped the hand of one of his sergeants and pulled himself in just as the back door closed and sealed, and the force of thrust took in effect."

"Captain… you need to take a look at this…"

He dragged himself up to the cockpit, and saw his worst nightmare come true.

The local defense fleet was in tatters, the cruiser bulking until it was torn apart by it's own reactor going nuclear. The blast consumed the ship in blue fire, leaving only scrap behind. All that was left was a handful of Destroyers and Corvettes and several squadrons of fighters dealing with the enemy strike craft,but they to we're being overwhelmed.

"Captain… your in command now. Admiral Nal-Uruk is KIA."

Those words seemed to chill the gunship enough to the point that cold drinks could be poured from it. The cruiser was down… so they would have to assist the planetary defense in any way they could.

"Get General WhiteClaw on the line. We need to set up defenses."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**To start, I never really respond to my readers, unless I have an important announcement or if I want to respond to a vital comment. If you would like me to comment, please comment on this Story. I would be very happy if you comment, and give me honest, constructive feedback so I may improve this story.**

**I always feel that whatever I put to paper isn't enough, I strive for more, always. But I never really get feedback for any of it and It leaves me very insecure that I might be a bad writer.**

**So please comment, even if it isn't positive. All I want is feedback and what I could do to improve the existing narrative of the story. Thank you for your time.**

**Connor McCartney (Calicokitty111)**

Admiral Vindictus Carrendus stood at the front of the bridge of his flagship, the massive battleship _Vindicator_. It's massive crew we're celebrating across the ship; cheering and shouting amongst brethren and fellow armsmen alike. But he simply stood in parade rest, watching his fleet approach the remaining enemy ships. The last few Destroyers fired defiantly into the swarm of heavily shielded corvettes. The Cyclop Gunboats fired marauder missiles in swarms, tearing holes into the enemy hulls, while Legion Strike Craft released payloads of Proton Torpedoes. Energy charges flared, shields flashed, and streaks of exhaust from engines and rockets spread throughout the void.

The Gunships were being loaded. The marines we're armed and prepared. The invasion force was ready. His flagship, a new Marcel of technological, economic and military achievement was powerful enough to invade entire planets unaided, and tear apart fleets on it's own.

"Admiral, General Capernaum has requested permission to prepare the invasion forces for full scale launch. The Gunships are fueled and loaded with Marines."

The young Admiral pondered this. He had no doubt he had the benefit of space superiority, but this was a massive world with over forty billion inhabitants and twenty million servicemen, albeit most of them raw recruits with less advanced weapons. At most, his fleet had just about a hundred thousand armed Marines and support squads, two thousand Mercury Class Gunships, and a few thousand squadrons of armored vehicles, such as _Pilum_ hover tanks and _Gladius_ hover scout vehicles. He simply didn't have the resources to initiate a full scale planetary invasion yet, although he could fortify a few small positions and set up manufacturing plants to fuel the local war effort.

"Tell General Capernaum to locate several small cities planetside; I want him to initiate invasions and set up fortified strike bases. Strike Officer Cassius, what were are strike craft losses?"

A young but grizzled station operator with mutton chops looked up at him and listed off the casualties in a deep Irish accent. "Fifteen percent, Admiral, mostly our slower heavy bombers, the ones that were considered obsolete against our medusa multirole strike craft. The rest we're a broad range of interceptors." Although the losses we're almost painlessly few, he still couldn't help but wince. Those young men and women were serving their Emperor, and we're wasted by Xeno Scum who didn't know their place.

They wouldn't die in vain. He would assure that.

"Communications; contact the _Cyclops_ corvette captains and tell them to coordinate with general Capernaum to provide orbital bombardment and ground support."

Several more officers replied with a myriad of acknowledgements. They began to type away furiously at their consoles, the chatter of sensors and ship maneuvers loud.

"And get me a secure line with the Emperor, I want to report my success to him… personally."

* * *

Admiral Vindictus stood nervously in front of the hollow projector of the ship, a two meter diameter circle embedded with optic technology. Even when he succeeded, contacting the Emperor was a very daunting task that few loathed. While many would consider it honorable, their God-Emperor was an… imposing figure.

The hollow projector blasted to life, revealing the God-Emperor of mankind. He was tall, very tall, almost six and a half feet, with the physical attributes of a romantic bust. He was muscled and strong, had a promise nent jawline, and eyes that could melt through a ship hull. His voice made mountains tremble and entire planets shiver.

He wore a suit of armor made up of gilded dragonscale armor, with golden outliers. He had no helmet, no crown. His regal aura was all he needed.

He spoke, his voice commanding and hard like topaz echoed even in the hologram. "So, it seems you were so successful in purging these Xeno Scum, Admiral Vindictus. You are to be commended. However, there is still much to do, many planets to conquer and species to subjugate. Tell me, how have the plans to occupy Target Bravo commence?"

He bowed in reverence. "They have begun smoothly, God-Emperor. Our forces are being consolidated with haste to take several small cities along the coast of Thrium, their largest continent. I am planning to set up manufacturing plants with the local population as indentured assets."

The God-Emperor seemed to be deep in thought, hand to chin. "What about the General… he can be restless at times, arrogant."

"I will keep him in line, God-Emperor. We shall not fail in this mission."

The God-Emperor nodded, satisfied. "I shall send reinforcement s and supplies to your fleet to speed up your task, Admiral. Do not fail me." With that, he snapped his fingers and the hologram shut off.

"Keep me in line? That's interesting, because we both have the same goal."

Vindictus didn't even look behind him. He recognized that deep, entitled voice anywhere. General Capernaum was not an average man, borders. On the hive world of Morgana to an impoverished family, he had joined the Imperial Military Academy at a young age and rose through the ranks to Brigadier General and eventually Grand General swiftly, albeit mostly due to his extreme fervor and commitment. He was a man to be respected, but also criticized due to his many heretical notions toward the emperor and especially his orders.

"You have your orders, Capernaum, we all do. You should follow them as I have."

"Those orders are a disgrace. We should be purging those Xenos, not enslaving them!"

"I'll remind you, Capernaum, that what you speak is heresy. Your accomplishments be damned, I'll strike you down where you stand unless you quiet you foolish notions!"

The General seemed taken aback by this, a surprised look on his face, but his brow immediately hardened. "You will regret this, Vindictus."

"Your right, I'll probably regret not getting you like the pig you are."

General Capernaum drew his blade and pointed it towards Vindictus, a durasteel saber sharpened to perfection. Vindictus did the same, and they began to approach each other in a traditional dueling fashion. Then the General struck aggressively, slicing downward as Vindictus sidestepped his blow and thrusted at his stomach. The General sidestepped and swung at his legs, and while Vindictus had dodged most of the blade, the tip nicked his ankle painfully, causing him to grimace.

The fighting became much more intense; thrusts became slashes and both began to kick and punch along with their attacks until Vindictus had caught General Capernaum by the foot with his good ankle and swept him off his feet. He tumbled back into the Hollow projector of the command room, panting as the Admiral's blade became very intimate with his neck.

"Face it, General, you could never beat me, not at the academy and not here."

Capernaum scoffed. "What happened to you, Vindictus? You used to be this ambitious young man, with a head full of dreams and the heart of a lion, and now you are the servant of that fool at Holy Terra. Where did the old Vindictus go? Where was your pride, your plans to wipe the Xenos from the galaxy?"

"I grew up and I realized that there is more to this than just the war. We have to think about what comes after this, and if we can build a brighter tomorrow with those we take with us."

Vindictus let oked him in the eye, anger prevalent, and for once, Capernaum withered under his gaze. "Now, back to your duties, _General_. There is much to do.

And with that Vindictus made his way to the bridge.


	3. Chapter 3

**It's been a while, and I'm sorry. I haven't updated in forever, but unlike other authors, I won't make an excuse about school or work or family, just the truth.**

**I am a very insecure writer. I have problems with everything that I put on paper, always critical of every word. I looked at some of the other things on this site and thought 'hell, how am I going to compete with that?'**

**But I came back to check if my writing was really as bad as I thought, and I found a lot of views, an amount that I never thought I would get as much as I did. And I want to thank Can't Catch This For that simple but motivating comment. It made me open my eyes and allowed me to put ideas that I thought were great on paper without being crushed by my own self doubt.**

**From here on I will be continuing this story and updating as much as possible. Weekly friday knights is my goal, and I am going to continue to make longer and more detailed paragraphs and chapters, more in depth characters, and an overall story that you enjoy and I can be proud of putting on the Web.**

**So I would like your recommendations. What can I do better? What should I add? PM me, so to not spoil it for the rest, but I want your feedback.**

**And thank you all for your support. Maybe we can turn this story into something more than just a jumble of thoughts.**

The Gunship sputtered and wheezed across the light blue sky, small towns below them. Due to the blockade of the planet, no citizens have been able to evacuate to the deeper core worlds, although that may have been a blessing in disguise. That would be chaos, as their food situation planetside was already strained due to the losses in the brutal skirmishes and even more so in the recent massacre of Osk-Jar-Kan and Ku-Jen-Tul. They Megacorporation simply had no money to spend on such an endeavor, much less abandoning the valuable Agri world and feeding billions more with a food shortage.

It was all rather pathetic.

Come to think of it, Captain Nur-Ken didn't remember a time when the official government of the Trade League had any power beyond actual _trade_. It had probably never happened, not even during the Imperial Skirmishes or the decade of strife just north of them. Everything was managed by supply and demand and laws were set in place by the local owners of property. The only official government law was the five tenants, don't harm, don't steal, don't rape, don't discriminate and don't enslave, and they were held very loosely by the Trade League.

While this may have had made them an economic powerhouse in their region, the fact that they had no real influence to build government shipyards, confiscate civilian shipyards, or raise standard civilian armies made them weak by a military perspective, and even with the council's attempts to centralize and consolidate its influence and power to at least issue a war tax, much of the civilian sector, despite the threats to their very existence, had downturned the vote, much to the dismay of the actual people since the election was most likely rigged.

Now all they were left with were the few mercenary companies and local militia garrisons that were mustered to protect their planets, most likely poorly armed and trained and with a lack of any real armored support meant that while they did outnumber the orbiting imperial forces, they were still severely outmatched.

And on top of their incompetence in warfare and lack of expendable resources, the Imperial Army and Imperial Navy were well oiled machines of war designed to fight in the most hopeless circumstances and win. They had an obvious air and naval superiority and armored corps that were intelligently designed.

In other words, they were _fucked_.

By all means, he should have just called it a day, left, gone back to his ship on Screkan and hightailed out of corporate space, but he always had his damned sense of _honor _that was instilled into him since he was a mere grub, and he had no intention of throwing away the lessons his parents had taught him. He, however, would not drag his men into a war they wanted nothing to do with.

He rose from his seat on the floor of the gunship hanger, which was already cramped by five other Screk, two of the avian Unyala and his newly instated second in command, a feline of unknown origins merely named Zion. Zion was particularly a problem due to his massive size, taking up twice the space of any of his other men, but nobody dared to question him for it. Would you question someone who crushed a pirate's head like a tomato? Neither would Nur-Ken.

His men were impoverished at the moment and morale couldn't be lower. Many were covered in blood, either their own or the blood of their comrades, dead or otherwise. One of his younger mercenaries, an Unyala New-Nester by the name of Azul-Beak, was missing his arm and was shivering from shock as he held a now ashen and bloody rag up to his newly cauterized stump.

He purposely coughed to gain the attention of his employees, and spoke. "Now, I know our situation may seem hopeless, and I understand that you hold no obligation to be here, especially of you aren't even Screkan; I understand that you all have families, mates, and lives to return to, but I ask you to fight, if not for this collection of ragtag planets, then to defend the Galaxy from the Scourge that is the Imperium of Man. They seek to enslave the galaxy under an Iron fist, destroying those we hold dear if we so dare to resist."

The old captain let out a shaky sigh, and continued. "But, if you wish to leave, our destination is the city of Dur-Nah-Kur-Chu, and you can book flights to your respective locations, free of charge. I shall also pay you your pensions for your service records based on service time as legalized within your contracts under section C."

"Now, does anyone wish to leave?"

Nobody made a sound. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop across the small hanger. Finally, Chor-Gar, an ex convict and drug addict, spoke up. "It's safe to say that none of us are leaving, Captain. I won't speak for everyone here, especially not Dhru-Mak…" This caused the whole hanger to chuckle, due to his extensive gambling debts, "But i'm staying because these bastards killed my brothers in arms, the ones who helped me kick my old life away and start a new one. I'm staying, and I'm going to make sure these Imperials pay." Much of the denizens of the hanger nodded and acknowledged his claim. They began to chatter, morale higher than it had been in hours, and it finally seemed there would be some hope.

"So, I take it I won't be paying any pensions today?"

Zion looked up at him, now awake. "I don't think so, Captain…"

* * *

The Gunship gave out the moment they crashes onto the landing pad in the city of Dar-Nah-Kur-Chu, the capital of Osk-Jar-Kan. The city was a bustle of activity, people moving between buildings, gathering belongings and piling up at the star ports to leave the system, even though it was ultimately futile. He wouldn't be surprised if the regional manager had blocked all space travel and just told everyone to go back to work, much to their dismay.

Besides the rather obvious chaos in the streets, Several mercenary corvettes floated above the city to screen for strike craft, but any enemy corvette or destroyer that entered the system would easily outmatch them. Mercenary guards lined the streets impatiently, attempting to funnel then people away from the starport and back to the public sector and back to work in the farmlands and nutritional plants.

He shook his head. He knew why the regional manager was doing it; to further his political career. The core worlds would be starving for raw materials and he would sell it at massive prices until he could only be paid in political favors, the safety of his employees be damned. People like him should never be in office.

Sometimes he wished he had moved to Nebula Republic years ago.

He left the gunship in the hands of Chor-Ghar, his impromptu pilot White-Feather, and the rest of the crew and took Azul-Beak and Zion with him, the former to see if he could get him proper medical attention and maybe a false limb, and the other if they ran into any trouble. Not that he was cowardly, but many planets in the Trade League did harbour those with Ill intentions.

Zion glanced at him with a disgusted look. "Why aren't the people able to leave? They obviously need to be evacuated…"

He held his hand up and went quiet. "Not here. We have to get some shelter first, maybe even leave the system. As much as I hate to say it, defending this area of the Galaxy is pretty hopeless with greedy Screk running the Trade League."

"But why stay here then? And more importantly, if we leave, where will we go? We have no FTL capable ship, no fuel for our beaten up gunship, and barely enough money to scrape by for a few months", as usual, Azul-Beak had a skeptical look on his face, and while the Captain did respect his usually logical assumptions, it didn't help with the chain of command.

_Oh, please. This is a mercenary company, not a military unit. Why should he be professional?_

Captain Nur-Ken wasn't fazed, however. He already had what he needed to at least start off his plan. "As the last reigning officer of the fleet, I inherited the public mercenary funds. There were several fleets making up the task force above the planet, none of them very impressive, but the funds of our former admiral is still enough money to purchase a ship and some crew, and stock up our stores. And besides, it will take a while for the Imperium of Man to defeat the Trade League, even with their overwhelming advantages."

"What about your shuttle on Screkan?", Said Azul-Beak, wincing. Every movement should have been immensely painful, but yet held it together, something he had admired when he had recruited the otherwise naive individual. He always stuck with his men and was loyal to the brutal end. Most others might have simply fled with a missing arm.

"It's a shuttle, Azul. It isn't really combat worthy, although it does have good armor. We could modify it into a light cruiser, but that would be more trouble than it's worth at the moment. We need a real ship. And besides, our motley crew of ten can barely run a Corvette effectively, much less the shuttle."

"And where will we find a Corvette?"

Nur-Ken cackled by clicking his mandibles. "I have a few connections here… as for you, Azul-Beak, go with Zion to the nearest clinic and get that stub checked, and a bionic arm, and before you ask, no you can't get an arm with a flamethrower." he handed the avian a credit chip with a couple thousand credits, patted Azul on the back and pointed towards the nearest metro station, which was oddly above ground. Maybe it was much more pleasant watching the endless farmlands rather than the sky-high forges of Screkan as you were transported to work.

Azul-Beak whined childishly but walked away with Zion, and Nur-Ken could distinctly hear Azul talking about a chainsaw. He shook his head. That fool would be the death of him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.


	4. Chapter 4

The entire bridge was silent and stiff, many of the staff muttered prayers to their God-Emperor, his ascendants, and the spirits themselves. The battle would be very much one sided in their favor, but the most pious of them never forgot to praise and pray to their leader, the savior of mankind.

Admiral Vindictus was no different, as he finished the standard battle verse, he eyed the planet, it's geographical features very plain and normal beyond it's dark green landmasses and greyish-green oceans. It was flat, ideal for agriculture, and a prime Target to strike if they wished to administer a crippling blow to the wretched Trade League.

The fleet had recently circled the planet, prepping planetary bombardment charges and drop pods to follow them, the hellish forces that would help wipe clean the heresy of this planet and bring the galaxy closer to a singular dominion. While many did question their origins, the Hellion Squads were no doubt completely loyal to their Emperor and their Cause.

It was safe to say that Capernaum would not be leading them.

Beyond the planetary assault squads, the additional assets had arrived through warp mere hours ago, ships laden with supplies and manpower for an extensive campaign on the ground. While they did have an advantage in quality, they we're still fighting in enemy territory, in hot and dank jungles and endless bogs and swamps that housed the Anti-Air and Anti-Ship batteries planetside. This battle would be grueling in more ways than one as well as a true test of the courage, devotion and tenacity of the Imperial Army.

Loud but graceful footsteps clanged behind him, and he turned to see one of the Hellion Shock Marines bow before him in an appropriate fashion. He was tall, taller than any human in the room, and could probably outmatch any Shock Marine on the vessel, mainly due to his extensive genetic, biological and bionic enhancements. His armor was an evil black with hellish red separation lines for extra intimidation, as well as demonic horns peeking out from his helmet.

But his most notable factor was that he was a Xeno, Unyala to be precise. It was noticeable in the way he walked and moved and the shape of his armor to fit a slightly skimpy but lean avian body. His normal talons were ripped out and replaced with wicked claws, was enhanced with bionic retinas and had superhuman hearing and we'll, and was applied with a variety of nerve dampeners to increase it's combat efficiency. They were trained from birth to be pious, proper, and acknowledge Humanity as a superior race. He was also aggressively conditioned to be one of the greatest warriors in the known galaxy.

In short, he was the perfect servant of the empire, blessedly obedient to the Emperor and his assigned superiors, mainly admiral Vindictus.

"You may rise, Hellspawn. Are your associates prepared for your duties?"

The demon simply nodded, no emotion behind his movements. He stared at the admiral, awaiting further instructions. It was slightly creepy, but also oddly satisfying to see a lesser race so subservient to humanity. The slave was also admirably tall and fearsome, as his name suggested.

It made him wonder what plans the emperor had in mind for this planet…

"Good. Be prepared to launch at 0200 hours. We need to catch them off guard at night, And still begin proper mass engagement at around sunrise. You will be accompanied by several Shock Marine companies and some air support, although do not rely on it. Dismissed."

The Hellspawn bowed and left the bridge, leaving the crew speechless. Some whispered racial insults behind it's back, not that it cared. Others observed it curiously. His second in command, Vice Admiral Malakus just rolled his eyes, scoffing at the immaturity of much of the crew and continued with his work.

He had only an hour left to wait.

"Vindictus, I thought I was the General here?!", Hollered Capernaum, in an almost joking way. While they may have been at odds with each other half the time, they we're still compatriots, if not categorized in the much more immature term of frenemies. "How come you get to control the Hellion Company? They're the most advanced pieces of military technology in the fleet."

"The Emperor declared them a naval asset, mainly for quick response and naval assault, among other things. Besides, with your track record, you would probably wipe out half the squad with your foolish tactics. They're prototypes!"

The bridge chuckled at that, and even more so when the General groaned and began to complain that he would not be able to use BattleFleet Ursa's latest toys of war. It was all just a jest, as the general had received his own experimental toys to is in the upcoming battle, including vehicles meant for jungle warfare. Being a prestigious general did have it's benefits, and while he would never admit it, Vindictus envied him on occasion.

"So, when shall the invasion commence? Everything is in place and all weapons are charged and primed. We still have to set up manufacturing centers, and capture cities for said manufacturing centers."

"We need to neutralize all Anti-Air batteries in the area, and while a company or two of shock Marines would usually be satisfactory, they have fortified the area to a point where that would be inadvisable."

Capernaum looked at the dataslate with the tactical map and information and scoffed. "I could take that position with half the forces. The Screk aren't really known for having professional soldiers."

Vindictus shook his head. "They're mercenaries, General, and veterans at that. They are usually equipped with some of the best weaponry in the Galaxy. They may not be as disciplined, but definitely tough as nails. And besides, there's your arrogance again, General. One day it's going to catch up with you."

The General chuckled. "If I'm running a marathon, the reaper's run out of breath already." Returning to his men for briefing, he let out a soft sigh and muttered something along the lines of "I'll show you who's arrogant"

The Admiral, once again, shook his head and returned to his meticulous planning, exasperated.

* * *

Hellspawn-1, also known as Red-Quill, trudged back to his quarters, armor making slight _clinking _noises with every step. It was only his under layer, a thinner set of 5mm plates along with his unmodded helmet, so the noise was acceptable, bit once he donned his full power suit, intimidating but slim monstrosity of 3cm thick Neutronium armor and Strike Craft class shielding that can shrug off a full force blast from a pulse Anti-Air cannon, he was quieter than the best assassins. It was a kink they we're still ironing out as of now, but once the MK2 armor was released it would be solved.

The armsmen stared at him as he passed them, but he paid them no mind. He understood that the Imperium wouldn't accept them right away; they had no reason to. _Behind any alien smile is an unknowable mind_. That term had been drilled into him since childhood, and while it was somewhat depressing that his kind was shunned, he was determined to change that so one day his people could be in good standing with the Emperor of Mankind, and they might one day see the light, so that one day the Galaxy would be United in prosperity.

His barracks, a small section aboard the flagship where his brothers and sisters in arms lay in wait for their first assignment, was just ahead next to the small arms locker. While it was smaller than the average Marine barracks, there where only eight of them, all the same as him. Du we to this, there were individual stations for them to live and work in, and their full time residence was now the _Vindicator_. There was a small gym, set up with heavy weights and exercise machinery, a small common area, their individual rooms and their armory with their weapons and excess gear, such as spare armor plates, antimatter cores for their armor suits, spare parts, excess ammunition, and rations. Across the hall were their medical and maintenance staff, those trained in maintaining their armor and healing them after particularly vicious battles. They weren't biased like most due to the extensive period they had helped in their training (which had been most of their lives) as well as the close proximity they had been with them.

He entered the barracks, his squad simply wanting for confirmation. They were bored out of their minds, but what else could they do? Violet-Eye and Fire-Talon, two of the four resident females of the squad, we're sparring in the weight room. He could hear one put the other into a brutal headlock and use her momentum to flip the other onto their back. Blue-Feather, the heavy weapons specialist, was listening to music and rocking side to side quietly, obviously in his own little world. Dark-Wing and Wind-Call we're playing chess in the corner on a metal table while Frost-Dive, the third female and sniper of the group watched intently as Wind-Call took Dark-Wing's king with a few innocent looking pawns on the corner.

He coughed to gain their attention, and they all looked up at him intently. "Begin preparations. We drop in less than an hour. Standard gear and armor, jungle camouflage." His squad members nodded, and headed to their armory. Inside as a collection of the most advanced small arms in the galaxy. Their weaponry was a P06-B 50. Caliber Assault System, or simply the P06-BCAS (Nicknamed the Reaper by some) for short. It was a large assault rifle with a fifty round box magazine, advanced heat venting systems, and fired the brutal 50. Caliber Imperial, an explosive liquid propulsion round designed to deal with a variety of enemies at close and long range. It had been tested in the worst environments imaginable and it ran in rain, snow, mud, sand and water and could stand the heat of 200 RPM.

Although plasma weapons did exist in the Imperium, they were only advanced and reliable as ship weapons, as relatively small plasma weapons on ships consumed mass amou asnts of gas and energy, and were difficult to miniaturize without neutering their destructive capabilities. The outcome was a deadly but unreliable handheld energy cannon that only certain experimental units used, and they weren't one of those said units. They would backfire occasionally due to their extreme maintenance needs, overheat like a bitch, and usually carried less than ten shots maximum.

They all had the same pistol, a large twelve round 50. Caliber Cobra magnum pistol, with standard liquid propulsion FMJ rounds. They were deadly at close to medium range and could tear off the limbs of smaller enemies.

Combine that with their extensive armor capabilities and advanced improvements on their bodies and they were the ultimate killing machines.

They suited up, machines and robotic arms placing, sealing and pressurizing their exosuit armor and adding their extra gear; grenades, medical stimulants, and excess ammunition. They now all stood eight feet tall, when before they were seven. Their helmets were modified with rebreathers and gas masks, night vision utensils, and active camouflage to hide their advance. They then rushed down the hall with quick succession and to the pod bay where they would be inserted into high priority zones. He entered his pod and sealed the hatch and his squadmates did the same, the klaxon alarms wailing in the background, and the weightlessness of an orbital drop hit him as his pod rattled.

The heat of the atmosphere began to scorch the pod black, it's Neutronium alloy resisting the intense heat and pressure of deployment. Then his airbrake flaps opened and he jerked downward in his seat. One broke off, since it was a prototype, but the secondary brakes opened and the rocket pods fired as he reach fifty meters.

Then with the signalling of a sharp _thud_, he grabbed his assault rifle, pulled his hydraulic clamps, and burst out the pod as the door exploded,gun at the ready. Several Mercenaries we're gawking at him as he mowed them down, several rounds tearing them apart like playdough. Others peered from the trees, obviously alerted to their descent, and fired blue and purple lasers at them. His shields easily absorbed the brunt, while the rest scorched the ground around him. He fired his AR fired in short, surgical bursts, first into the few defenders in the trees, and more that had entrenched themselves in the hills not far behind.

Several more pods landed around them, humans all in Shock Marine exo-armor fired laser rifles in beams as the defenders retreated, one being eviscerated by a laser beam. Another's head exploded from a round from one of his Siblings-In-Arms. A third was crushed by a pod, a heavy Shock Marine hopping out. The defenders began to scatter like carrion birds, grasping the weapons and comrades they dragged with them as they were massacred in the thick, shallow bogs.

He signalled them to hold their ground, with the first PD generator some five kilometers to the west, and their current direction to the South. A city wasn't too far, only about two kilometers, but it would be foolish to enter before the bombardment began. Instead, he signalled to the west, and they slipped into the trees as the Shock Marines established a foothold for a camp outside the city. Their active camouflage hid them from any scanners near the defenses.

The first great crusade had begun.


End file.
